To Rename a Sword
by airwik
Summary: Some decisions have more influence than others. Some Swords have destinies. This change and this Sword are one of these. WIP, should be gen. for the most part.
1. Chapter 1

A significant crotch in time

"And what have you aver earned, hmm? Not a penny to your name, your worthless parents just went and got themselves killed, good riddance I say. Just leaving you to be a burden to decent, hard-working people. You don't have a hard-working bone in you body. You've never given us anything but grief, but you take and take like the leach you are. Tell me, boy do you have something you earned, something of yours by right and not the generosity of your betters?" Aunt Marge asked. Her disdainful sneer could have won awards, launched a thousand ships; granted it wouldn't have been for her good looks or radiant personality, but even so, it was a sneer that was good at being disdainful, condescending an generally unpleasant, and it was proud of it. That sneer had graduated top of its class, had gone to finishing school, had mastered the curl of the lip, had written treaties on the exact angle which conveyed the most disgust.

At this moment, Harry's pride coughstupiditycough and temper ganged up on his common sense, beat it up, locked it up in the toilet. That unnamed metaphorical foot reared its ugly head, flexed its muscles, hijacked the tongue. The resulting chimera that launched its maiden flight from Harry Potter's mouth went thus: "I have a sword"

Petunia glared from behind her teacup, Vernon reddened and puffed himself up like a cross between an offended bullfrog and a particularly ugly robin.

Marge, on the other hand smirked like a predator smelling blood "oh? And how did you do that? I didn't know you fenced, or was it perhaps acting? St Brutus is known for its refined activities. Maybe your Daddy gave it to you? No mugging innocent citizens is more likely, it would explain the new shoes. Well? What are you waiting for Boy, show us you knife!" Hanging jowls were not the only attributes Marjorie Dursley had in common with her dogs. A lust for cruelty and blood, compounded with a tenacity when worrying away at any perceived weakness, made for ugly viciousness in both dog and woman.

At this time the crotch of the trouser of time bulged, readjusted itself a little, then split into two. In one leg, a somewhat enlarged Marge floated like an angry, profanity-spewing dirigible.

In this leg, however, a very real, very heavy and very sharp sword materialised into Harry's clenched fists. Hilt in one hand, blade in the other. This had the unfortunate consequence of slicing deeply into his left hand, blood flowing along the blade, filling the groove, then the carvings in a crimson too bright to be attributed solely to blood.

Reactions were varied, but contained risks of: shock, quivering jowls, fifty shades of puce, outcries of boy and freak.

The most surprising, yet the most normal, was Dudley's. His pathological fear of magic, instilled within him by both his progenitors and Hagrid's porcine "addition" warred with the fact that, hey, it was a pretty kick-ass sword. He somehow ended up shooting out of his chair with a strangled squeak which may or may not have been a drawn out "cool". And even if all talk of magic was prohibited in the household, he'd played enough video games and seen enough films to see where this was heading. Young orphan sent to study far away in a secluded and mysterious school to learn mystical arts. So okay he didn't seem to be learning super martial arts, and he certainly didn't look impressive, but humble beginnings usually meant humble.

Admittedly Harry was so pathetic, if he hadn't opened the shower at the right moment, he would never have seen the impressive scars that littered his smaller cousins body, the most impressive being a circular scar in his upper arm, that seemed to have punched clean through, leaving the surrounding skin discoloured, an eerie sheen of pewter.

That was probably the moment where Dudley admitted to himself that he would play second fiddle to his kin. It had always been the case, really; Harry had excelled without study when they were younger, and had drawn classmates to him, his whims the moon to their tides of games and interests. So used to being the apple in his parents eyes, he had imposed himself, and after having found himself treated as the ungrateful a unwelcome hanger-on, he had lost his temper and chased away the lot of them. Why should the boy who was so beneath him have plentiful friends when those friends scorned him? Things had escalated from there.

But now he could see that while he was temporarily content, his cronies were fickle, hardly trustworthy friends. his weight was becoming a serious issue, and the less said about his grades the better. And perhaps the young boy who would climb trees to pick the ripest cherries would entrance his crush long enough to show her that he wasn't just a bully. Perhaps the deciding factor in his change of heart had been gathering up his courage to talk the the girl, only to have her terrified, trying to give him her lunch money, if only he would refrain from hurting her or her sister; he had refused it, of course, but before he could speak she had jumped onto a bus, the wrong one at that. He had been following her a little, so he knew her schedules, it sounded creepy like that,but he wouldn't harm her.


	2. Chapter 2

thank you for the reviews. I'm sorry to say that mistypes and bad spelling will probably be a constant; dyspraxia, or at least my particular symptoms make for clumsy typing and a very bad proofreader. so unless a charitable soul who actually notices fiddly stuff like capitals and commas decides to beta, well, be grateful that I actually use punctuation now .

Water closet ruminations

Later on when the whole débâcle had been sorted out, namely, Vernon had shoved Harry into his room bodily, carefully avoiding touching the sword (after giving it a hard yank, but it had refused his touch, giving him some nasty burns instead) ; Dudley was ruminating on the toilet (amongst other things) he had already determined that Harry Potter was going places, and he was going to do his best to not be left behind again. Now he just had to figure out how to do that. He knew better than to just waltz up to his cousin like all was well, if he had been in the others shoes, he would probably tell him to bugger off and die in a ditch.

What he needed, he mused, was a peace offering. With his magic tricks he probably could acquire all material goods he wished, but maybe he could find information or something. He'd never seen his cousin on the computer,

maybe googling his parents would be for the best, he didn't think the smaller boy had any photos of his parents, he hadn't seen any at least.

Dudley swore, he had known his cousin was going places, what he hadn't known was that he was already there. There weren't that many sites that mentioned him, but those that did were something else. It seemed that his cousin was a star of some sort, and apparently a rising talent in what passed for football for _them_. He gave up on the parent idea, if he was going to the same school his parents went to, someone had to have given him some photos and anecdotes. He'd seemed to struggle with his sword, maybe he didn't know how to use it, if he found someone to teach him, maybe they could learn together; he'd be able to be his sidekick, no his brother in arms, and go slaying dragons and saving damsels in distress, preferably one in particular, so long as she fell into the right set of arms.

He took a half-melted bar of chocolate from his pocket and munched determinedly. He had no idea where to find a sword master, but at least he had a plan now. He should also start being nicer to Harry, start amassing brownie points; speaking of brownies, Dudley looked down at himself and grimaced. He knew he was obese, it was hard not to, no matter what his mother said, he couldn't remember seeing little Dudley without a mirror, not that she said much about his dick, but even so. He looked longingly at his chocolate bar before putting it in the trash; how was he to woo his fair maiden if he couldn't dash to her rescue, he barely waddled, and started sweating atrociously. He had to get fit before he considered anything else. He was going to have to cut down on the snacks, and well, everything really. His parents wouldn't understand, they always plied him with food for whatever really.

Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone, he would give all, well most of his snacks to Harry. He'd best take him jogging so he could carry bottles and such. And anyway, misery likes comfort, if he was going to suffer, he certainly wasn't going to be the only one.

With these resolutions firmly in mind, Dudley rose up and started to stride out, only to stumble a little. He then remembered his current situation, put his pants back on, flushed, then went to wash his hands. Sanitary obligations accomplished, he climbed the stairs and entered his cousin's room.


	3. olive crisps

Olive crisps

He stood there, motionless. Plans and resolutions didn't really do a situation justice, he looked at his cousin, really looked; saw a thin frame and deep shadows under the eyes, ill fitting clothes and a look of weary suspicion.

He hesitated, looked away, words lacking, he placed a bag of crisps and a bottle of orange juice on a box of his old toys, planes and tanks for the most. He left without saying anything, feeling his cousin's eyes on him the whole time, closing the door softly, leaning his forehead on it afterwards. Guilt was a feeling that seldom plagued him, but today he felt it sharply, and it was not to his liking.

This situation repeated itself a number of times, after a while, Harry stopped looking at his kin with such distaste and guarded suspicion. The Sword remained on the table, seemingly untouched. Harry had at first been understandably wary, his expectations tainted by the antagonism of many years. Gradually, when an enraged Vernon had not irrupted into his room, castigating him for stealing his Dudder's precious food, he had grown to appreciate the offerings as what they were, an olive branch.

He'd asked why; Dudley had said why not. He'd never really thought about his actions, his family's treatment of family; but now that he did, he was ashamed. He'd been too close, too involved to see himself becoming worse than a bully, a sadistic jailer, tormentor of someone who he'd never really acknowledged as family or even human. The sword had been a wake up call. That someone who he had always perceived as inferior, worthless could have something desirable, and as they had seen when Vernon had tugged ineffectually at it, inaccessible, had caused him to re-examine his cousin and subsequently, his treatment of him, a so called paradigm shift.

After a while, Dudley had finally broken down and and asked permission to hold the sword, which was quickly albeit bemusedly given. Dudley had gleefully hurried over to it, grasped the hilt firmly in both hands and prepared to have a king Arthur moment, only to completely fail to lift it. He yanked at it, put all his considerable weight behind it, alas it refused to give any ground.

He gave a disappointed sigh, he had expected this outcome, but had kept an unrealistic hope. He should have known better, really. Cultured he was not, but king Arthur's Excalibur and later on (through comics) Thor's hammer had taught him that mystical weapons refusing to be picked up were a sure sign of a hero-to-be. And a sidekick or squire was better than a bully any day, especially if said squire got to escape from this stifling prison of a neighbourhood and go on adventures, the sheer boringness, the monotony of everyday life here was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Harry had frowned, inspected the sword carefully before picking it up with one hand, as if it weighed nothing.

"oh" the idiot seemed truly surprised "maybe it won't let itself be handled by muggles"

"muggles? Anyway I don't think it would accept anyone else. Don't you know anything?"

Harry scowled at the boy, but it lacked any real heat. What his usually dense cousin had said, wasn't so stupid. If only a real gryffindor could wield it, logic would mean that plenty of people could use it. Tradition and history however would point to it being a relic that did not let itself be wielded, by anyone really.

"But I can use it. Why?"

"Don't you have a quest or something? Your parents were murdered, that seems like you should avenge and all that."

"Yeah. I should really, even if I don't particularly want to. Why are you being so nice to me? What do you want?"

"Adventure. Magic. I know I can't use it, but I still want to see it. I don't really don't know how I feel about wizards, you lot seem dangerous, a bunch of out-of-control maniacs."

"Thanks" Harry had to bite his tongue here, but casual insults were something he was used to.

" but on the other hand, you get to leave. This place is like a leach, it sucks the life out of us. Look at the adults, grey and dull. They don't have any hopes or dreams, they're all unhappy and working at jobs they don't like hoping that money will help them be happier. They always want more money because they're always unhappy. I... I don't want that. I might not be happy, but at least I'll be alive."

There was an awkward silence, Dudley had bared an important part of himself, and Harry didn't really know what to say. An analysis like that couldn't be recent, it was to deep, and had to have taken his cousin a great while to formulate.

"I understand. I can't say you're forgiven, but I'll try. And though you can't come with me to school, I'll include you if I can. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I'll help out if I can. I don't know how really. Umm, maybe we could go jogging? And I heard your parents were rich, dad has been teaching me finance and stuff. I can even use an excel chart and everything."


	4. Walkies

Walkies

Harry had been understandably suspicious as soon as money was mentioned. Compared to the new-found pessimistic and decent Dudley, a Dursley ploy to acquire his family's gold was more believable. But he had agreed to the jogging, which really amounted to a glorified stroll while Dudley puffed and sweated and moaned, generally making a spectacle of himself.

Apart from a few run-ins with Dudley's cronies, the only thing of note was the appearance of a huge stray. Jet black and scary thin he made for an imposing figure. Dudley had emitted the hypothesis that he was some bastard cross between a Great Dane and a Husky, or some other wolf-like breed.

At first they had seriously considered calling the pound, as the dog seemed ill. It probably had rabies and it wasn't even neutered; but the huge stray had grown on them, to the point that they had conspired a trip to the supermarket, then regretted it dearly when they missed the bus and had to lug the 10kg bag of dog food. They had also made a scene in front of the vet when an argument on names nearly escalated to fisticuffs. In the end, the "I'm the one paying" argument won out. The newly named Dragon now had a typical black spiked collar. It also put up surprisingly well with a delousing shampoo when the Dursley adults were away on a shopping trip. Resulting in hair covered...everything, and a blocked drain. If dog hair in copious amounts wasn't enough, it had too shake itself dry at all the awkward moments.

Dudley had been slightly disappointed at the lack of immediate change, but spending time with his cousin on friendlier terms had been nice, and Dragon was a delight, even if he was a big drain on his allowance. A dog that big ate a lot. He didn't notice any immediate weight loss either, he had thought that jogging was just an ordeal, both physical and for his ego, but then he had noticed that he didn't seem quite as winded after going up the stairs.

This had given him the motivation necessary for his flagging dedication. For a week he had gone jogging every day. He had settled on once every two days, it gave his aching legs time to recover, and running when the burn was at its worst felt if not pleasant, satisfying.

It had been an unpleasant surprise, when they had realised that the days were getting shorter, and soon they would part ways, each into their own school, two different to be able to relate.

Harry had been gingerly asking whether Vernon could give him a lift to London so he could his school things when Dudley had blurted out that he wanted to come. This had not gone down well. Harry had been accused of subverting the Dursley's precious son, of bewitching him to make him do his dirty deeds. In the end it had only been cut short by Dudley saying that he wasn't going to miss out on anything the freak was getting. If he got to go shopping and to visit the circus, then so did he. Vernon at least, had seen the logic, he had said that he refused to be responsible for anything that happened, and that he most certainly would not be setting foot into that madhouse. He understood a boy's tendency to want to do everything his elders warned him of, but it would be on his own head. Some things were best left alone. That being said, if he wanted to do something that foolish, he refused to be part of it. They could bloody well take the bus.

And so they had. The long ride had mostly been spent in companionable silence, common sense dictating that Dudley's questions should be kept for a more private setting.

They became quite damp during the trek, London being in its usual state, a fine summer rain had been upholding the family honour, proving that English summer rain could defy laws of physics by being a great deal wetter and intrusive than it had any business being.

It had been with a great deal of relief that Harry had taken his cousins hand and dragged him through the entrance to the alley. Once away from prying eyes, a drying charm dealt with their state of sogginess.


	5. Chapter 5

Cut across Diagon alley

Harry had warned his cousin beforehand that he shouldn't wander around on his own, but that did not diminish his wonder at the sights before him. Harry was perhaps slightly disappointed that Dragon had resisted all their efforts to get him into the bus, but showing his cousin around was good enough. Uncharitably, he thought a leash would be quite appreciated, after having had to drag a gaping Dudley once too many times away from some sight or another.

The most awkward moment was perhaps when withdrawing funds from the bank, Dudley had been staring unabashedly at the goblin. Said goblin had been giving him the gimlet eye, and had been if possible even ruder and more impatient than ever. Thankfully, when his cousin had started asking pointed questions, the goblin had shunted them off to a private office.

When they had been led into an office, Dudley had basically taken over. He may not have the grades for it, but Harry felt a future in finance for his cousin.

Dudley had commandeered the accounts, spouted a bunch of gibberish and basically made more sense out of the rows of numbers than Harry in the last two years. He had been surprised that he had never received anything telling just how much and what he had exactly. When he had asked, the goblin had taken out his keys, done a series of...things with knives, stones, a wooden bowl and what looked alarmingly like a Voodoo doll.

The goblin had grumbled about wizards being wizards and having no respect for artefacts, before giving him a red leather bound binder, telling him to sign with a nasty red quill that stung his hand.

They had then been shooed out and told to come again later, the tone clearly indicating that the further off this later was, the better.

They had then gone about the different shops. Dudley had been very interested in wizard space, and also the various types of sweets. Harry had managed to talk him down from getting an auror trunk complete with five different compartments, but had agreed that an expanded one would be quite nice. He had felt sorely tempted, but in the end he reasoned that he hardly needed more space, it was organization that he lacked.

He placated his cousin with the purchase of a book on runes and another on creating wizard space, even if they both seemed terribly complicated.

For dinner, they snagged a booth at the leaky cauldron, and partook of its famous Shepard's pie. While they ate they pored over the binder. They quickly noticed that it was organized quite well.

The first page was an overview, it gave the total amount of money, a list of vaults and their total amounts as well as their page number.

Then came the pages for each individual vault. They detailed the specifics of each vault. Contents, transactions but also their history and how he came by them, most had been from heirless lines who had named him in their will for his part in defeating the dark lord. A few had even been rented by Dumbledore and were filled with trinkets, some clearly cursed. A few pages referenced land deeds which they later found at the end of the binder.

By the end of the binder, Dudley had started sounding like a broken record, seemingly stuck on his newfound wealth.

By desert they, well mostly Dudley had moved on to possible investments. But this was mostly put on hold, as Harry didn't know if there was a wizarding stock exchange, and while he did have some funds in pounds and Euros, he didn't have access to most of it, and he didn't have anywhere near the same amount.

He would have liked to have some spending money for the rest of summer, and he did feel slightly guilty at not really participating in Dragon's upkeep, but he also really didn't want to go back to the bank. Harry comforted his conscience with the fact that Dudley still had some to spare, and that he always had more than him, and really it was for his own good. the lack of money stopped him from indulging in sugary snacks, and he had seemed decidedly less spoiled.

When they took the bus home, both were tired but generally content. Dragon was waiting near the park as usual, eagerly waiting for them to feed him from the bag of dogfood they had stashed in a tree. They knew they should be feeding him more often than that really, but it wasn't really practical, and they suspected someone else was feeding him as well, as the amount left in the bag diminished regularly, and they found footprints and empty food wrappers in the area quite often.


	6. Goodbye

Goodbye

The end of summer came quickly. When September the first arrived, Harry had not yet managed to cajole his Uncle into signing the paper allowing visits into Hogsmeade. This Summer's unpleasant surprise had been when Vernon had announced that if he could go shopping by bus, he could also take the bus to go to King's cross.

Harry had felt slightly choked up when saying his goodbyes to Dudley. Dragon had gathered his leash and his bin bag of supplies ( food, brush and a toy) and followed Harry into the bus. The driver had nitpicked a bit, but in the end had given into the pleading, the sob story of the boarding school for nine months and a tenner.

When they arrived at King's cross, Harry quickly found out that a waist high dog parted the crowds wonderfully, although between him and Hedwig they attracted quite a few stares.

Not for the first time, he wondered if the dog was magical, as it turned and went through the wall with little to no hesitation. Then it all went pear shaped. As Harry spotted the red sea of Weasley-hood, Scabbers squealed, bit Ron and made a bid for freedom, darting across the station, Dragon in hot pursuit.

Chaos quickly descended, the tightly packed crowd panicking. The children started screaming while the parents started shooting various spells at the animals, with varying amounts of accuracy. A cohort of crimson clad casters quickly covered the contingent in crowd control spells. Two of their number targeted the animals, however only one spell reached its intended destination. The rat skidded to a standstill, petrified. The dog however evaded the spellfire and remained unhindered. His jaws closed around his prey, which he shook like a terrier, a spray of blood spattering the bystanders. He spat out the mangled corpse, which quickly expanded to resemble a human, a rather portly balding one at that. Silence spread, an aptly named shockwave rippling out from the spreading pool leaking out of the broken body.

One of the red robed wizards broke the eye of the storm first. A whisper of Peter Pettigrew spread, the crowd buzzing like an anxious beehive. The Aurors rallied, one conjured a black sheet to cover the body, another went to report to the higher-ups. The rest started ushering the hysterical students into the train.

The dog was still by the corpse, paws now in the spreading pool, flanks shivering. A spell hit him, reverting him to a more human aspect. The Aurors seemed unsure as to how to deal with him exactly, settling on holding both bone thin wrists , before apparating away. The man himself did not resist, both in spirit and of body, he seemed to be a broken man. Shaggy hair uncut and slightly greasy but brushed, scary thin and crying steadily but silently.

Harry had been at the very edge of the circle around the pair. When an adult took his shoulder, the visibly shell shocked teen jumped, then slowly took off his glasses, wiping off the stray drops that had reached them.

He was guided gently towards the compartment. Hermione taking over with a grateful nod towards the unknown man.

Her apologies and platitudes proved not quite as comforting as intended, when she let slip that the man the ministry had taken away was in fact his godfather, locked away for the man he had just murdered before their eyes.

Needless to say, the train ride was tearfilled. Both boys shaken badly, Hermione had hovered and fussed over them, But seemed at loss as to how she was to make everything all right again. It was also clear she was kicking herself about being the one to reveal Black's circumstances, and doing so in what was perhaps the worst way.

Surprisingly, despite Harry's "pet" having killed Ron's, the two boys boys bonded over having been deceived by the two men. They truly rallied when Malfoy stuck his nose in, running his mouth on about harbouring a known criminal. They fell into their old pattern of Hermione restraining Ron from slugging the berk, and Harry threatening the three Slytherins out of their compartment at wandpoint.

The only major difference from their set routine had been the arrival of an exhausted looking man, who claimed to be the new defence teacher, who took Harry aside and asked to see him after the feast.


	7. Rooms and War Councils

part two of three of a mammoth chapter, by my standards at least, spawned by some particularly dull lectures at uni.

loath as I am to appear needy, reviews are much appreciated. so pretty please?

Rooms and War councils

When they were alone once again, they held a hushed war council. While Malfoy was admittedly full of shit, the ministry was in his father's deep pocket. Like any loyal group of friends, they had gotten into more than their fair share of scrapes, but this was one with consequences, they feared, could prove to be dire. Ron had quickly informed them that being of school age, they could now be tried under adult status. The public and ministry being what they were, they were likely to be thrown to the wolves, an example as it were.

As the train slowed to a stop, they had reached a conclusion. They would have to run away. Harry had suddenly remembered the deeds. He had yet to inspect their contents, but surely one would fit their needs.

The Sorting passed by in a blur, they had been too preoccupied to do more than clap when the table erupted into cheers. They followed the mass of children into their tower and promptly ensconced themselves in a corner of the boy's common room, shielded by one of the beds.

Hermione, ever herself, had brought out a sheaf of paper and started taking notes. Lists of what they would need, how to procure them and what precautions they would have to take. Ron was briefing her on all that he knew, be it the Aurors or the ministry. Harry had brought out his binder and was looking through the different properties. Most seemed to be in a state of serious disrepair, ruins really, as a number of them had been gutted during the war.

He had at first selected a cottage in Wales, but at Hermione's urging, he had selected a more unlikely candidate.

An old line distantly related to the Potters had died out some time ago, and after the required eighty years, all properties had been ceded to their cadet line, the Potters. Prominently featured were his father's cloak and an old castle, complete with pastures, chattel and satellite buildings. The sprawling lands included a lake and a most of a forest. It had included a village at one point, but some obscure law made it ministry property.

They had nearly passed it over, but Ron had pointed out that chattel included herds but also magical animals and beholden beings, ergo house elves. If that was the case, and with a castle that size, if it was still standing after over eighty years of disuse, then it probably hosted at least a few.

Harry had shot a grateful look when Ron forewent mentioning that chattel also included wives and serfs, and a second one when he defused Hermione's rant on elf rights by mentioning that if they didn't bond, not only would they be unable to reproduce, they would slowly wither and die. They could tap on both natural and life magic. Natural from the ley lines, life magic from their bonded.

This had triggered another rash of whispering, which resulted in Dobby's summoning, the discovery that he was in fact already bonded to Harry, because it had been his sock that had resulted in his freedom.

Dobby had been only too happy to help after hearing the danger they were in, and help he did. His magic enabled him to transport their luggage to the castle, which allowed entry to a servant of its heir.

Their own transport was another matter entirely, as elf magic was not without its limits. In the end, they settled on hunting down the Weasleys' car, which meant an expedition into the Forbidden Forest. Hearing this idea, Dobby once again saved them much trouble, and probably their lives, by locating said car and driving to the outskirts of the forest, while they sneaked out of the castle under the invisibility cloak.


	8. Take off

8Take off

Of course, not everything went according to plan. Just as they were taking off, an enraged bellow sounded, and tearing across the grounds came their new defence teacher, obviously both angry and athletic, a rather scary prospect indeed.

All three children panicked, jumping into the car. Had they been more organised, perhaps they would have made a clean getaway. As it was, Hermione found herself in the drivers seat, and while knowledge was her speciality, driving a car that is alive and has no keys was beyond her. By the time Ron had done the necessary jiggling and cursing, the irate teacher had reached them. And by the time they had lurched to a start and taken off, they were within leaping distance, which the teacher promptly did, landing roughly on the boot of the car, making their ride buck.

" what in the burning hells do you think you're doing!" he growled, amber eyes glowing in the dark.

The children gave him their best deer in the headlights look (all of them, including Hermione who was supposed to be driving).

Ron cracked first. " I won't let you put us in jail! We didn't know they were animagi."

The greying man sighed, pinched the root of his nose between two fingers.

"Ronald Weasley I take it? So you must be Harry and you must be Hermione Granger. Lets just land the car and then we'll talk about this, ok?"

"No, we won't, you can't apparate us from here." Harry's suspicion and bullheadedness resurfaced.

The stocky adult swore softly, " merlin save us from from stubborn children. I swear I won't take you anywhere, but this creaky wreck isn't road safe, let alone reliable enough to trust your lives on several hundred meters above ground. Anyway, I wouldn't hurt you, don't you recognise me? Remus Lupin, you know, Moony. I changed your diapers"

This last comment elicited a snicker from Ron, and defused the situation.

Harry shook his head, stunned at the revelation, but still slightly wary.

In the end, Ron took the wheel, being the only one who could drive the picky machine. Harry mulled through the diaper comment while Hermione interrogated Remus on just about anything and everything, from his qualifications, his relationship to Harry and his parents, his knowledge of politics both mundane and magical.

After perhaps half an hour, Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, and asked which direction he was supposed to take, as he didn't actually know in which direction he was supposed to head.

Remus facepalmed.

"you mean to tell me that you set off in a rogue enchanted artefact, at night, and you don't even know where you're going."

"We know where we're going. We just didn't get to how to get there that's all." Harry mumbled.

"Alright, where were you heading?" the responsible adult sighed, resigned to the fact that he was probably going to be fired before he even started.

" To Harry's castle, down South in the Yorkshire" Hermione blurted, ignoring the boy's betrayed looks.

Remus did a Point Me, before pointing out that they had better turn left.

In the end the ride was rather dull, after the first hour, which had been spent hashing out the Sirius situation. At first, the children, well, mostly Harry had been all for storming the ministry holding cells. But the voice of reason aka Remus and his bossy assistant spoke out and convinced them that the legal way was best. Well, guilt-tripped more than convinced really, but pointing out that Sirius had been framed and then imprisoned without trial meant that should he get a trial, he would be promptly acquitted, which meant that he would no longer be on the run which in turn meant that he would be able to go out in his two-legged form. And they wouldn't want to condemn him to a life of dogginess now would they?

The journey took longer than expected, as they had to make a pit stop when the bumper finally fell off, and a second time when the invisibility ran out of magic. This had the consequence of them landing and Harry trying to keep a straight face as he stuck his wand in the fuel reservoir.

All four were pretty much sleepwalking by the time they arrived at the castle grounds. They landed by the wrought iron gate flanked by the tall stone wall that circled the extended grounds. Two stone lions, or possibly some kind of werewolf, they looked quite oriental, and foreboding with their rust red mouths.

Harry looked uncertainly et Remus, who nodded encouragingly. he put his hand into the stone maw which promptly closed around it, piercing the skin. The stone shuddered, when the guardian dog released its hold, the gates swung open with a groan. The car went through of its own volition, the others following behind, trying to avoid looking at the blood dripping from the statue.

Remus shouldered his scholarly mantle of professorship. "from the looks of it, this is the outer ring of the castle defences. The wall goes around all the land traditionally owned by the family. It anchors the perimeter wards, so that's perceptive wards, early warning if you will. There are also minor repelling wards, anything strong, or even reliable tends to collapse if spread too thin. And the unplottable wards of course. We should be crossing the more agricultural lands. Pastures, forests, mines. Anything too big or not valuable enough to bother protecting. There's still a way to go, so we'd best get back in the car.

Later on there'll be the enclave. That's usually a series of defences around the bottom of the hill the castle is built on. Inside the enclave is the village, because a village usually grows near a castle, or at least the old ones. There are also usually pens for the more dangerous creatures. Cattle is usually brought inside if there is a siege, but no-one wants a dragon on their doorstep.

Then there's the fortified wall around the castle. There should also be a stable or two, and various out-buildings, that really depends on the castle. That's where you get the real wards, some of them can get real nasty. The walls themselves can be several metres thick and high. Hogwarts used to have goblin steel lining it's fortifications, but after one of the rebellions, they reclaimed it.

Anyway after that there's the castle itself, but there are so many types, if you're interested I can suggest some additional reading."

He looked at the children, the boys looked politely interested but mostly asleep. The girl was taking notes in a notebook, stopping to look at him intently.


	9. Grounding

grounding

After half an hour or so of driving, they arrived at the second walls. A gate of wood reinforced with a black metal barred their way, big enough to fit a dragon.

An amethyst geode stood waist high, runes carved through the rock and the inner glow of power made it look like an expensive jack-o-lantern.

A slot in the top of the geode confounded them for a moment, as they knew they had to unlock the gate, somehow.

They probably would have stood about for a good while, had Harry not remembered the similar origins of both the sword, the castle and the cloak. As he exclaimed his finding, the always warm weight of the sword materialised in his raised hand, nearly lopping Remus's ear off. Instead he just got a lopsided trim. Apparently the sword was very sharp. Harry had gasped and caught the falling hair in his still bloody hand, handing Remus his hair with a sheepish grin.

Remus had gone to retrieve his hair to dispose of it adequately, but when his fingers grazed Harry's fingers, releasing a flash of light and a whump of pressure and magic.

Both took a step back, dazed.

"Anyone know what happened?" Ron asked, slightly worried.

"no definite idea, but I'd better take a look at it, when I have some decent research material." Remus admitted, looking rather grim.

Harry looked around uncertainly, but a commanding nod from Hermione reassured him. He strode forward, heroically bringing forth the sword, a glint of light and obliging ray of sunshine centred on him.

Unfortunately said glint of light hit him squarely in the eye, making him stumble and squint most unflatteringly.

He also had to jump a little, as the sword was too long for his short stature to raise vertically above the ward stone.

When he had slid it home with an unpleasant screech of steel on gem. The stone hummed, then split, the individual crystals separated and zoomed off, embedding themselves into the walls at regular intervals.

The gate unbarred itself, opening outwards with a ponderous groan. Behind it there was a sort of antechamber, walled in, but ominous slots in the ceiling betrayed the nature of the equally ominous soot marks. At the other end of the chamber, which could have housed a dragon, there was a series of portcullises . Goblin steel and silver. A gold net was tucked to the ceiling. Rods of Rowan, ash and oak barred the way, complete with grisly wind chimes (although they found out these lined the entire wall). The chimes themselves were of various body parts, bones and teeth, heart and hide. Some belonged to animals, magical or not, but others belonged to sentient beings, including human. These slid open with barely a whisper. Only the strings of trophies remained, swaying in the non-existed breeze.

The final gate of stone opened outwards, frustratingly slow. When they finally stepped out into the open, they finally had their first view of the much awaited castle. It was still quite far away, and hidden by the remaining fortifications, but seemed both imposing and welcoming. Leading from the gate that jutted out from the thick walls, a road curved round the bottom of the huge hill on which the castle was built. It passed by the small village and continued to the gate house of the citadel, because obviously, castle didn't quite capture the sheer size of the fortifications.

Before they could set off along the smooth paved road, Dobby popped in, followed by a multitude of other elves, about fifty, albeit all elderly.

Harry had had to grab the elf's shoulders to calm him down. After much repeating and excitement, it became apparent that Dobby had become head-elf, an honor, especially for a young elf like him. The elves around him were the old family elves, and had come to bind themselves to the new master, so that they could once more bear young, hint hint.

At Harry's hesitant nod, he was pretty much assailed with sobbing elves, touching their foreheads to his hands and divesting him forcefully of his cloak and gryffindor scarf, which they cut and divided between themselves.

When each elf had taken cloth and magic, they settled into ordered ranks, flanking the old blue ford. Dobby summoned the cloak of invisibility for Harry, and once again they set off. As they neared the village they heard bells ringing. People were coming out of the very medieval houses. Not quite cheering, but curious and merry, although some looked assessing or doubtful.

A man wearing a woollen dressing gown came out of the town hall hurriedly with an ornate box in his hands.

He started towards Remus, but then noticed that Harry wore the cloak and sword.

" As Spokesperson of Peverin village, I greet thee, heir apparent of the most noble house of Peverell. As holder of keys I give you your ancestor's rights of holding. As Regent of this domain, I grant thee law and council, coin and wand.

Right now that's over Welcome the Peverell domain, I am mayor Chipmunk, and you must be young Harry Peverell, am I right?"

"Harry Potter, actually." the young boy mumbles, trying to ignore the other's suppressed sniggering.

"No, no, no! That won't do. Only a Peverell can be heir, a Peverell we must have, so a Peverell you will be. But come, it has been many long decades since we last had visitors, but we will show what hospitality we can muster on such short notice. You will want to reactivate the keep, but for tonight at least, perhaps it would be best if you stayed in here."

They followed the stream of people, feeling as if they had fallen through the rabbit hole, but as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound.

The village itself was quite small, it was formed by roughly fifty houses, on both sides of a river, which widened into a small lake on the side nearest to the gate. Two wooden bridges spanned the river. The only building made fully of stone was the town hall, which was rectangular and two stories high, some carvings dotted the walls, but it was otherwise unremarkable. It faced a small paved courtyard which doubles as a market place. A few of the houses bore the hinged panels, so they were likely store fronts during business hours.

The mayor ( although in Hermione's opinion he didn't look anything like a politician, dot with slippers and nightwear) led them through the doorway into the reception room of the hall, where benches and trestles were being dragged or levitated into position. To Harry, it seemed all the village was there, which amounted to a little over two hundred people.

The reception went by in a blur, luckily while speeches and toasts did occur, he was not expected to do much more than nod and smile at key moments, and when he finally nodded off, he was carried to one of the rare guest bedrooms.


	10. Heart and Hearth

10 Heart and hearth

When Harry woke up, he found himself in a smallish room. The small window was made not of glass, but of translucent skin. The air was chill, but he barely felt it, buried under piles of furs and quilts.

He looked around yawning and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a pair of eyes staring at him.

"Young master Peverell is to be getting up now. He is being in bed past sun-up when he is to be going home to being young master of the castle. He is to be visiting the grounds and telling the elfies to be having elflings. He is to be getting up and having breakfast. Up! Up!"

The elf shooed him to the council room which apparently doubled as a breakfast room. Professor Remus, well, ex professor Remus was already at the table, cradling a mug of milk and rivalling Ron in the ancient art of bacon devouring. Ron was proving formidable indeed, he might have been pale and bemoaning his impeding death at his mother's hands, but that did not stop him piling on the rashers of bacon, sometimes adding chicken or steak for variety to his sandwiches. A couple of minutes later, Hermione sauntered in, holding a heated conversation with an elf, mostly by herself. She bounded over to them, settling into one of the wooden chairs.

"Did you know House elves need to be given permission by their bonded to reproduce? Their lifespan also stretches from fifty to three hundred years, depending on if they're bonded and with who. The elves were originally Squibs. They would bond to powerful families and serve them as vassals or serfs, in exchange they would channel part of their magic. Some of these eventually became elves."

Harry looked up from his porridge with a fond smile, "productive morning then." He paused for a moment, still not fully awake, frowned " there hasn't been a heir for eighty years, does that mean you haven't had children for that long, and haven't been able to do magic either?"

the elf quivered then burst into noisy tears, between the wails and nose blowing, they managed to learn that no there hadn't been any elflings for eighty years, their population had been steadily dwindling, and they had been unable to uphold their vows of service, as without sufficient magic their ageing population was unable to handle the upkeep of the castle and the grounds.

Wide eyed and innocent, Harry offered permission to any who would want it. He was promptly swamped with clamouring elves, popping in, crawling over and under the table, grabbing at his hands and clothes.

Harry could have kissed Dobby when he came to his rescue, popping in and soundly scolding his fellow elves.

"You should be ashamed of youse! This is not being proper behaviour! We is being house elves, we is not putting foots on tables. We is wiping foots and showing decorum. Youse is not assaulting young master, youse is lining up and asking with manners. We is being civilised, polite, indoors elfs. Youse is house elf, not field elf. Now act like it." Dobby quivered with the proud indignation of the centuries old stiff lipped family butler, faced with an indignity to the family honour. He could have been a general, telling his men to buckle up. At that moment, his presence rivalled even the Weasley matron, an impressive feat indeed.

The elves, thoroughly chastised, shuffled into line, two by two. Each pair followed the same ritual. They would come before Harry, where Dobby would present them. "this is being Renny and Jaffy. They is being both kitchen elves. Renny is being an hundred years old. Jaffy is being four-score years old. They is asking to be having elflings"

After being prompted once or twice, Harry would formally grant permission, and Hermione would note the names and date in her notebook, to be copied later into the household book. Somehow Hermione had become the family scribe cum historian.

Some time later, when the twenty or so pairs of elves had all been granted permission, they finally set off, accompanied by the mayor, a host of children and the curious gaze of just about every adult. The walk to the castle walls was spent discussing the village, the castle and it's history.

"This used to be a grand place you know. Before the main line died and the castle shut down we rivalled Hogsmeade in trade. We exported just about every magical material and hosted a werewolf colony on the other side of the forest, best dragon tamers werewolves are. But then we were trapped here. Nothing goes in, nothing comes out. Or at least that was the case. We had some leeway before the ministry took hold of the village deeds, thought they could force us to pay rent and abandon the haven we have kept for so long. Fools didn't think, we have no vaults for them to plunder, and what little we had, they could no longer gain as we could no longer breach the wards, or even communicate with the outside world. We will have to talk about that, but business may wait a little longer. Anyway, given your current vassal and advisor, I have little fear."

While Harry mulled over the implications of what he had heard, Hermione's studious nature and curiosity resurfaced, albeit tempered with the desire to defuse the slightly heavy atmosphere.

"I was wondering if this was a holiday, or do you have a different schedule, do you work only afternoons, or have different holidays? I know for us at least, classes have just begun." She asked, trying to prompt a conversation with the surrounding children.

"School? You mean apprenticeship? We start at ten and finish, well that depends on what the master does and says really. Anywhere from thirteen to old really. I'm going to be a ranger!" one of the children piped up, pushing his way to the front.

"If you start at ten, shouldn't you be heading back? You're going to be late."

He giggled "No, silly. Ten years, I'm only eight."

"So what do you do until then? How do you learn things? You do know how to read?" Hermione gasped, with more dawning horror than tact at this revelation.

Remus, seeing the hurt feelings and incoming political incident clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Now, now. He has plenty of time to learn if he wants to. Not everyone lives in the library."

Ron perked up, having felt slightly neglected "Anyway, going to school is over-rated. I never went before Hogwarts and I do fine. Normal people don't have time or money for tutors."

while Ron and Hermione bickered over the normal people comment, which apparently hadn't gone down well.

Mayor Chipmunk commented wistfully and somewhat pointedly that Peverell castle had once hosted small classes of preparatory education. And free of charge at that, at least to residents of Peverin Village and Haven, as well as the usual Charitable cases, Orphans and muggleborns mostly. Minor education had even been given to Squibs and muggle siblings of magical students,something unheard of at the time.

This set several sets of cogs whirling.

Ron's because while he may act the fool he was not one; he and all children of the poorer or lesser families would always be at a disadvantage, always unable to make up the lack of connections, money and academic support, hence the continued supremacy of an inbred close-minded aristocracy.

Harry's because this was something only he could and would do, a way to if not save at least help people, and if he could include his cousin, all the better.

Remus's because he knew all too well the injustice and all the myriad difficulties a werewolf was faced with, and though justice and equality seemed impossible, if education could be attained, then that would be a great hurdle breached for his kin, and perhaps key for a better future in the muggle world. Even simple reading and writing would be a good start, one of their weaknesses was their lack of communication and coordination.

Hermione's because she grasped the implications and the possibilities. Her parents had taught her the value of education and independence. They had also instilled a firm desire for equality that had left her a thirst for a worthy cause, perhaps not politics but something of that nature. She had been working on a project for house elf rights, but having spoken to some and having a deeper understanding of their nature, perhaps it was not abject slavery but a symbiotic relationship, although she would be looking into a way to give them rights and prevent abuse.

She read between the lines. Hogwarts was never intended to be the sole source of schooling, which would explain the complete lack of basic English and mathematics, and History lessons that were much too precise and in depth for anyone not knowing the basic timeline. If they could establish some sort of school, because obviously that was going to happen, they could influence and educate the coming generations, attenuating the distrust and differences between purebloods and other minorities.

If she understood rightly, which she usually did, the castle grounds had hosted a small camp of werewolves, perhaps hosting them would help stop the turnings. She had heard of greyback, and if one discounted rumours, his turning children a leaving them to their parents seemed more a violent type of protest than mindless savagery. Wizards tended to ignore a problem until it knocked at their door. So the wolf knocked at their door, making their hopefully precious child part of the minority. Unfortunately it seemed that this plan didn't really work, even backfired if one considered the increase in hysterical and oppressing laws.

But before that came the village at hand. The children had no schooling having had no teacher or school once the castle entered lock-down. This would have to be remedied.

Entering the castle itself was rather anticlimactic. A mere knock on the metal gate sufficed, although the stone walls were sufficiently daunting, being several metres wide, and very tall. Of coarse then there was the fact that they entered a room full of runes, then crossed a drawbridge onto a small island in the middle of the moat which they learned was submersible. The moat was of coarse filled with various creatures most of which were most unfriendly. They then crossed another drawbridge, waited as a portcullis creaked it's way up. Crossed another trap room and curtain wall and entered a small yard. In front of them stood five buildings. To their right a smallish guard tower. The castle itself consisted of a renaissance like sprawling affair, a rectangle Barracks and some huge stables all linked by a wall dotted by arched entrances encircling the original keep. The central building, the keep, was surprisingly small, one big tower and a smaller secondary tower jutting out of old stone walls. In the distance they could see two wells linked to troughs. A garden in some disrepair stretched from the two wings of the castle. The elves ushered Harry, through the arch closest to them and directly to the central tower. On a closer inspection, the tower was bristling with minutely carves animals, both mundane and magical. Harry opened the door and stepped inside, alone. He itched to go investigate, but had received firm instructions as to the whereabouts of the ward stone. He yanked a hair out and dropped it, then followed it when instead of falling it floated towards a flagstone. Said flagstone proved insubstantial and so having missed a step the young heir promptly fell ass over tea-kettle. When he arrived, bursting through a series of shimmering insubstantial (again) veils, he saw what appeared to be a mutated cross between a jewellers wet dream and a mushroom patch. His nose which had handily started bleeding during the fall dripped on one of the smaller stones, and activated some of the previously dull stones while altering or even dulling some of the active ones. The humming sound that pervaded the room increased slightly.

Figuring he was done, Harry climbed up the stairs with a shrug. He hadn't really done much, but maybe that was for the best, he was pretty much winging it and didn't really want to ruin their best chance at an unassailable fortress out of the ministry's reach while keeping Hermione happy.


	11. Kith and Kin

Well you might have noticed, but I've given up the idea of chapters of a similar length, I just stop when the scene is over.

Kith and kin

When he came out, the grounds seemed more alive, the grass greener, the dirt of the courtyard dirtier and less dusty. Most of the elves had bustled off although their presence was clearly seen by the flung open windows, some letting great gouts of dust or flocks of doxies or other minor pests. The children had flocked out running towards the grand set of stairs leading to the central door of the château.

The mayor was standing still, keeping an eye on the children but also surveying the grounds, occasionally saying something to Hermione. Hermione was busy writing calculations in her notebook, with surprisingly the rapt attention of a redhead who shall not be named, who was looking over her shoulder. Even he was participating in the conversation/scheming the tail-end of which he caught, something about the number of rooms and the feasibility of a quidditch and football pitch.

Remus who had been pacing off one one side started before heading to him with a relieved smile.

Harry smiled, feeling slightly euphoric for some reason "don't bury me yet, although those two seem to have dividing the property down pat."

The smile turned into a grimace "don't say that, not even as a joke. They're just excited, it isn't everyday you move into a forgotten castle that probably pre-dates Hogwarts."

Harry smiled, then wandered over to the pack of children who were waiting impatiently for him to open the grand doors. He knew he should be worried sick, maybe feel guilty although that would come with Mrs Weasley's howler, but for now, he felt weightless and carefree. He felt the land was his and he was the land's, no he was the land. Both detached from reality and realler and more present than ever before.

He climbed the marble stairs, the children parting ranks. He waited for the others to catch up in front of the doors, and had an inner chuckle at calling the children children, when only a few years separated them, but perhaps what they had lived had aged them, certainly he felt more burdened and he often found his year-mates shallow, naïve and petty.

He placed a hand on the velvety smooth and warm wood of the door which opened into an entrance hall where two elves and Dobby greeted them. A small squat elf with a squint intercepted the swarm of curious children, scolding them for wilfully ignoring their chores and manners, ushered them outside and set them to weeding in one of the smaller gardens.

The other two gave them the tour of the place, Dobby because it was his duty and privilege, and the other an ancient elf called Cripky because, well tours actually require a guide that knows the place. They visited great halls, small halls, private halls, grand reception halls and breakfast halls. They skimmed dozens of rooms and suites, bathrooms, music rooms, rooms that were furnished for god-knows what and ones for things which the adults knew and refused to explain. There were kitchens and cellars and granaries and storerooms, passages and hidden passages and secret passages, then there were emergency passages, secret emergency passages, escape routes that weren't and a great many other things. All in all, the only lasting impression was of a great many rooms, and that yes, the castle was actually bigger on the inside, and it was also quite big on the outside.

At midday they headed out to the small herb garden the children had been set to weeding where they enjoyed a simple but nonetheless appreciated picnic. Hermione had suggested that it only lacked lashings of ginger beer, but only Remus had understood, and he had been too busy explaining what ginger was to the Peverins to explain the joke to everyone else.

Ron was having an involved conversation with mayor Chipmunk on the feasibility of a quidditch stadium. The mood soured however when the elderly Errol flew laboriously into sight, and with it a dreaded crimson letter. Ron turned pale and looked ready to be sick.

"Harry, Hermione, I think you're the best friends anyone could wish for, when I'm gone, will you stop Fred and George pranking everyone at my funeral?"

" Honestly, she won't kill you, ground you until you're forty, but not kill you" Hermione sighed.

"How are you going to stop her, she'll be on a rampage, I'm never going to see a living soul again." he moaned

Harry stood up and exclaimed "Dragons!"

Ron and Hermione paused and looked at Harry, waiting for an explanation.

"Umm that would be one way to stop her, but don't you think that's slightly drastic?" the voice of reason asked.

" What? No, not like that. Ron you're always saying that the best way to get out of something is to derail her. What would distract her enough? She's always complaining about Bill and Charlie being too far away. I don't think we can do anything about Bill, but Haven used to have a dragon reserve, if we start it up again, I think we could convince Charlie to come work here. You tell Molly she can have her baby back and she'll forgive you anything. Hopefully."

" You're crazy. That, actually might work. How fast can we set that up? Could bes won't cut it. Mayor?"

"It can be done, certainly, but I don't know how fast, and how the ministry will react. Historically this domain is independent, but law may have passed and a legal battle is sure to be waged. Secrecy is both the fastest and slowest route. Some dragons may still be feral but captured in the outer ring, but capturing a dragon is no small feat. Some infrastructure may still be about but most will have to be repaired an furnished. The smaller stables in Haven should be usable in the short-term though. I suggest that we talk business in my office, as records and maps would be available, as well as bureaucratic tools necessary for decision making. But first, let us take this reminder of why hell hath no fury like a matron worried."

RONALD BILIOUS WEASLEY HOW DARE YOU RUN AWAY FROM SCHOOL!

YOU COME HOME THIS INSTANT! HOW COULD YOU! WE'VE HAD THE AURORS LOOKING FOR YOU HERE FOUR TIMES? AND KNOW THERE IS A PERMANENT WATCH. SQUADS ARE ALL OVER ENGLAND, AND YOUR FATHER IS ON LEAVE UNTIL YOU AND THOSE TWO HOOLIGANS OF YOUR'S ARE FOUND. EVEN PERCY HAS BEEN BOTHERED.

AFTER ALL THE TROUBLE WE'VE HAD TO PUT YOU IN SCHOOL YOU JUST THROW IT AWAY, EVEN GINNY STAYED AND SHE HAS MORE REASON TO LEAVE THAN YOU.

Ron looked puce, and everyone else distinctly uncomfortable as the parchment floated down as ashes.

The mayor stood and patted his slightly shabby ceremonial robes " Well, had she been a commander, I dare say Grindelwald would have been routed before the floo turned red. Perhaps we should head to the town hall? No doubt the faithful Head-elf will locate and bring the appropriate registers and documents for the administration necessary. Now I recall a blue contraption which would greatly speed our return, would it be possible to summon it?"

Ron shrugged, gave a piercing whistle, "well it was worth a try" and then seemed the most surprised when the car hurtled out of the sky a minute later.


	12. Crazy Bastard

a Crazy Bastard

The shabby twosome and their three educated children climbed out of the Feral Ford Anglia, having left the other children to find their way back because "we haven't seen a dragon in years, they'll be fine."

They landed the road that they had originally used, the unimaginative castle path, although the locals usually called it the old road, as it pre-dated the village. The village itself had two main roads, the second being the riverview road, an old tow path that followed the lazy river connecting two lakes. Between these two there was the town square, other alleys snaked between the houses, the most noteworthy being crotchety alley, colloquially called crotch alley. This was in part because crotchety alley is a mouthful, but mostly because on a map, the two streets, the town square and the town hall made a man waving his arms, and crotch alley started at the square,making a rather well endowed man, waving his arms.

They walked quite slowly towards town hall, being quite tired and having walked a great deal during the castle's tour. Villagers would come to them to ask new livestock would be brought in, or a new wandmaker, a potioneer to make medicines and such. Other more mundane requests were access to certain materials and permission to leave the grounds to trade or explore. The Mayor would chivvy along the citizens, saying they were on their to the office, were they would deal with the issue, but that for now they had best be on their way as they had much to do, which they did; that much was becoming more and more apparent.

It wasn't just going to be a question of waltzing in , having someone send a few letters and voila!, no they would have to remodel the castle to house more students, to actually house them as they had previously simply flooed in. they would have to help rebuild Peverin, and now a dragon sanctuary.

When they had moved all of the piles of paperwork and relevent documents into the small meeting room, thankfully helped by by two elderly elves, who seemed to know what was where much better than the mayor ( who after knocking the third pile of paper to he ground was exiled to hovering and directing from the doorway).

Once everything was ready, Hermione and Remus set to making a list of priorities, things to do and acquire.

The most urgent was to acquire a or several tutors, for all the children, Peverin or not. The second was to reconnect the village to the outside world both to sell and but goods and services. This would go hand in hand with the third priority, reading and analysing all relevant laws and edicts. On this, the mayor reassured them, the switch of families had been expected, and although they hadn't known when or if exactly it would be needed, he and others who were more educated than most had been preparing themselves, learning from the records and law books they had in their possession, and while some things would be new, some wouldn't and as he reminded, they were independent, and had been since they had never sworn once the protectorate and the last king of England had fallen.

The fourth priority was the dragons. The original sanctuary had been in the outer ring, but had been abandoned when the population retreated to the middle ring. Haven, the werewolf settlement had also doubled as dragon infirmary and processing, and therefore had six stalls, and space for two more in the processing complex. Having been accessible after the shut-down, some minor preservation spells had been cast, so it should be easily salvageable and would do for short-term use. In the Long term however, the dragons would have to go to the much larger outer ring, were they could have appropriate territory and feed themselves. A dragon ate too much otherwise, and besides, a locked up dragon is a restless dragon; and a restless dragon is a crispy dragon-tamer.

The lowest main project was to reactivate the castle, and use it as a school, and maybe as an orphanage, or at least as a safe place to stay for werewolves and other outcasts.

That would probably take the longest. There were a great many useless or obsolete rooms (adjacent rooms for bodyguards and ladies in waiting were so last century), and some things that needed to be added, indoor plumbing for one. Then there would be staff to hire, programmes to be made and students to be contacted.

Harry shifted uneasily, "Hermione, what are we missing? I keep thinking we're forgetting something."

Hermione frowned and shuffled her notes " well, we've talked about how to keep social services off our backs, how to keep Mrs Weasley pacified. Rehabilitating the estate will be a pretty big drain on our finances, but profitable in the long run. Actually you should have a look at the family grimoires, they probably will include useful information; and the elves are hinting quite heavily that I should be copying the events down. Wait, I know, you haven't sent your cousin a letter yet, you should, he's probably worried, if you want I'll read your draft to make sure you don't give away anything.

"umm thanks, but I think I can manage to write a letter on my own."he replied, before getting up with a start "Shit! Dragon"

the others looked around, alarmed " what! Where?"

Harry moaned "I don't know! But if what everyone at Hogwarts was saying is true, he'll be sentenced to Azkaban for escaping it despite not having done anything, well at the time, he has now...what do I do? I...don't get me wrong, it's incredibly creepy that he stayed my pet as a dog, and he did commit murder, but I feel that we can't just leave him there...can we?"

At this point Remus, who had been looking more and more uncomfortable shifted uneasily, drawing attention to himself " He was one of my closest friends, so I am by no means impartial, but James was like a brother to Sirius, and Azkaban is not a forgiving place, I fear Sirius will never be quite as he was. I am angry, He went and did exactly the same mistakes as thirteen years ago. And, well I'm not quite sure what it is I'm saying, but in all likely hood under Fudges rule, Sirius will be executed on sight, everything will be swept under the rug or twisted to the government's advantage. We can't pretend nothing happened, but maybe we could hide him until proper justice is served?"

the Mayor stood and excused himself, saying that as details had been settled, he had best start organising the trade caravans, with luck one could be gone and back by next friday, but would stock extra supplies in case they could find trustworthy hired help to aid in the reconstruction.

Hermione jotted down a few details, "well that's settled, we have his approval and plausible deniability, now we have to find a way to smuggle him in, probably using the trade caravans. I would however feel more comfortable is we could get him psychiatric help of some sort, for that we'll have to set up a disguise and new identity, which shouldn't be too hard, especially as I now have access to the Peverin records. Now for a psychiatrist we'll go to the muggle world of course, if he spent summer in it he should be fine, anyway, I was thinking we could say he was in a psychiatric hospital until recently, or maybe a small private hospital. I'm not too sure how to make the appropriate records, but the Hippocratic oath should work in our favour. So any ideas as to his identity?"

"well Harry and him actually look quite similar, they're related aren't they, anyway if you say he's your bastard uncle through your paternal grandfather, and I'm sure we'll find someone in the village to say they're his mother. And because you're the poor orphan who just found out their only relative is a crazy bastard, they shouldn't pry to much." Ron finished with a grin " and you can say you're my foster-brother or something."

even Remus seemed slightly impressed "and you just thought that up now?"

"yup, well, not the foster-brother thing...but anyway, you think it can work?"

"for Sirius, it will work, but for Harry, we'll have to find a way to explain why he isn't at school, and why you aren't either. Actually starting this afternoon, I'll start tutoring you, and I'll start writing some enquiries to some colleagues, I think I can handle everything at you level if I brush up, but I would prefer it if someone qualified divination and potions."


	13. Rooms not Shrooms

As they had been forewarned, the children started their lessons that afternoon, although as it was already rather late, they consisted only of an improvised placement test, so that Remus could see just how much they had slept during history of magic. Once a quick dinner had been served and eaten, quills and parchment was passed around and everyone set to their own tasks.

Harry wrote a quick letter to his cousin explaining vaguely what had happened and that if he wanted to visit for a weekend ot the holidays, it would now be possible. He then set to studying a family tome that had appeared by magic and then kept inching closer when no-one was looking, until it knocked his glass of water over into his pudding.

Hermione wrote a lengthy letter to her parents, and at Remus's suggestion invited them to visit. She then copied down the Elf pairing into the house book, which had been emphatically delivered by yet another house elf some time ago.

Remus set about the somewhat tedious task of writing to his various acquaintances, setting up a correspondance. He also drafted a number of letters to the packs, at least those he knew of, although he knew that only word of mouth would be effective.

Ron had the daunting task of writing to his parents and siblings telling them he was fine, and to not look for him, and the next time he saw them cold they please restrain his mother. To Charlie and Bill he also mentioned Haven and their wish to start up a dragon and werewolf sanctuary again.

At around eight Dobby popped in to inform them that some minor guest suites had been prepared for them, and that they now needed them to come to their proper suites so that they could choose the furnishings. Master Harry would be taking the Head of house suite of course, and if it was appropriate master Harry's Wheezy and and Granger would take some permanent apartments, but would the professor be taking guest apartments, normal apartments or the tutors quarters, or would he be staying elsewhere. Harry, not having seen said apartments couldn't really compare, and didn't feel particularly comfortable about dictating where someone would live, just told him to give him the best one and be done with it. That said, Dobby ushered them into the Ford Anglia which was conveniently waiting outside to take them home, to the castle.

The short ride was furnished by Remus asking about their plans for reopening the Peverin school and what they would like additional schooling in. Hermione then discussed at length the many holes in their education, what she had or would like to study and how it was both illogical and an outrage that no one had actually done anything when the school had closed, because obviously Hogwarts couldn't be standalone, the curriculum was simply too reliant on outside teaching, Arithmancy for example relied heavily on mathematics and algebra which was not taught; the students were expected to know how to write essays and know potion reactions, which for the most part, they did not. The lack of tuition in social domains such as languages, economy, politics or music was another sore point, although not something that could be attributed to the lack reviewing the curriculum, as apparently it had been cancelled in a bid to maintain affordable tuition when money and students had been few and far between due to two devastating wars.

By the time they arrived, Hermione was predictably writing down the rather daunting list of the things she felt should be taught, while Remus was alternately talking her down from some of her more unreasonable ideas and suggesting more things to write down such as household management and outdoor skills.

Three other elves were waiting for them under the arched doorway that led into the inner coartyard. They explained that they would be leading them to their apartments, as young master Weasley and young mistress Granger were on the third floor, professor Lupin on the fourth and master Harry Potter on the fifth..

this time they entered not by the grand door but by a rather discrete entrance at the end of the family wing. After a small atrium, two small corridors and two left turns, they climbed a sunbathed spiral staircase which led through all the storeys into the attic, which as the roof had been enchanted like the great hall of Hogwarts, also doubled a as greenhouse, although the floor had been removed, as the castle hosted inner gardens, sometimes stretching through several storeys; century old trees taking root on the third floor. Hermione and Ron's apartments were quite long, with one double door facing a central corridor and another glass one facing the inner court and a stately balcony, covered arches protecting them from rain and forming the support for the balcony above them. The insides were also well appointed, obviously intended for a family and not one person, they contained three bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms, a grand parlour that doubled as an all purpose formal room; three studies of various sizes, including one that doubled as a small private library and a well appointed kitchen. Remus's apartment was slightly smaller, tucked between the heir's suite and the outer wall on the 4th storey. The layout was actually quite confusing, a series of square rooms that would have benefited from a corridor or some central room from which to branch out. None-the less, it contained all the rooms one would expect from a well-to-do retainer, although the teacher joked quite faintly that his previous quarters would fit in the (slightly disproportionate) master bedroom alone.

The climb to the fifth storey to the family head's suite had Harry swearing to install a lift, especially as his suite was just about the only thing in this floor, apart from the continuation of the indoor garden, which was a cone of greenery and served to bring in natural daylight, enchanted windows just didn't compare. He was however amused to find out that he had a private staircase to the previous floor, which led to a corridor and two indoor playing fields, including a quidditch pitch.

The suite itself was in his own words, quite big; superfluous even, as the lower floors had an abundance of just about any rooms one could want, but still, he had a bedroom with a partitioned space comfortably filled with armchairs and a table, an interconnecting dressing room and bathroom including a small swimming pool. A cosy breakfast room led into a wide corridor from which doors opened to the flight of stairs or the garden, a victorian living room with a small playroom, a grand room of which Harry couldn't quite define the purpose of except for showing off and a small loo. The central room was a dining room as large as the Dursleys entire house in which beautiful polished oak tables formed an u shape, rows of sculpted mahogany chairs of more recent make (only a few centuries) neatly arrayed on each side. To the north lay the formal parlour, a floo room and a luxurious meeting room. To the south a kitchen but also various storerooms, laundry and even house-elf quarters, although those were in case of a siege, so that the servants would not be cut off from their masters. To the west was a formal sitting room, a tea room and a music room. Sou-West was a private library, a work study and a private study ( not that Harry saw a huge difference).Nor-West contained the less glamorous rooms, an animal room in which Hedwig was safely ensconced and sleeping, a nursery with adjoining an wetnurse's room. Then there was a small corridor with a few tiny servant rooms and three embarrassing suited intended for live-in concubines. Dobby had of coarse cheerfully inquired whether Harry Potter sir would be requiring someone in particular, and that a girl from the village could be acquired whenever he wished, or a boy, but that would make having little baby Potters more complicated. The now very embarrassed teenager had wisely refrained from asking for a hole in the ground to hide in, but had vehemently and repeatedly explained that he wouldn't be needing anyone's services for anything of that nature for a while yet. There was surprisingly little to do, as the décor consisted mostly of antique furniture and wood panelling and floor, and Harry was rather inclined to keep it as such. That and he didn't care enough about doorknobs to change them, even if the dragon shaped ones would have to go if they kept singing his sleeve.


End file.
